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Chapter 202 1.

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    ?

    ? I have read books for more than ten years, wrote compositions for several years, worked as a writer, worked as a shooter, became a ghostwriter, and worked as an editor. At the age of 21, I am living a wonderful life.  I don't know why I came to write this story on a whim, maybe it was stimulated by something.  Having such a fresh and refined name is justified by this sudden thought, thinking like a spring!  Well, I didn¡¯t mention anything real. I want to write a story, a story about the post-90s generation. To be precise, it is the friends I saw around 1995, 1996, 1997, and 1998.  The reason is that in the car, somehow, I remembered the contempt for the post-90s a few years ago, I remembered that someone said that we are the beat generation, I remembered Shamat¡¯s long flowing hair, I remembered that we were  The dream of ridicule reminds me of the computer that was once regarded as an electronic drug, and the dream that belonged to us that once had broken wings.

    I am a post-ninety generation of pure blood, one who likes to pick up a pen, one who likes to write love poems that make me feel childish, and an old man who likes to turn everything in life into the tip of a pen. I want to tell myself that my dream is still alive.  Continuing, the real reason for this story may be to keep me going, my so-called writing dream.  I am a novice, a pure writer novice, the things I write are neither beautiful nor vivid, and I have even been ridiculed countless times, but I can¡¯t let go of it, I just can¡¯t let it go, I can¡¯t leave it, I can¡¯t leave it.

    When I was fifteen or sixteen years old, I once had the opportunity to sign a contract on a certain website. It was also in that year that I received my first manuscript fee. Although I haven¡¯t seen my articles appear anywhere,  I don't even remember which magazine it was.

    I want to write this story, I want to tell everyone who sees my story in the coming days, I want to tell them that we are not what you think we are, we are all different, I don't want to have a job that binds my life, I  I want to do what I like, I don't like your life, that doesn't mean I'm wrong, I want to live my life.

    This book has no so-called plot, no so-called plot, I think, I wrote it, if it is a book, it is more suitable to say it is a kind of essay, a kind of unique understanding and view of everyone around me.  I see, I hear, I smell what I know.

    Well, enough of the gossip, and then the main topic!

    That day I was sitting on a bench by the square, listening to my friends constantly complaining to me about his life and boredom, and the unreasonable things his girlfriend did to him.  Not very impatient, everyone is a bit gossip about other people's lives, but after he tells you everything in detail, you will feel particularly annoying.  Humans are so unreasonable.

    "What do you think, what do you want now?" I asked wonderingly.

    "I don't want to do anything, but I just want to tell you that life will continue when I go back, and I will still be angry with them, and I will still love them." He froze for a moment, and replied somewhat naturally.

    "Hey, then you don't think about leaving this home and this place you don't like?" I suddenly became interested and asked.

    "I think, why haven't I thought about it, but, Nanxuan, do you know? I left home, I left them, I left these miserable lives, but what? What about in the future? I can still be like when I was a child, suffering  If I ran away from home with a little grievance, then I would really be called an idiot. This is my responsibility. I will repay my parents for their upbringing, thank the boss for her appreciation, and repay her love for me. Brother, these shitty things are also  I can tell you that I am at home, how dare I tell them! I am the pillar of the family now, the most mature man?" He was actually a little proud to say these words to me, I was stunned, but he stood  I got up and shook my hand.

    "Let's go, go home, or my wife will be in a hurry, it's almost ten o'clock! Don't tell your sister-in-law that I smoked today!" After the last sentence, I looked a little flustered, and I habitually waved at him.  He waved his hand, he smiled at me, turned around, I looked at his back, suddenly a little strange.  A younger, more upright figure seemed to appear behind him, and in an instant, I seemed to see the same him back then, that dissolute boy who was fearless!

    He is twenty-four years old this year, and now he has taken over his father's not-so-big company. Every day he walks around in suits and leather shoes and talks in front of all kinds of so-called elites.  breath.  He left school early five years ago, and everything seemed to have changed the moment he left school. When he was fifteen or sixteen years old, we hung out with each other every day, leading our group of younger teenagers, skipping classes  Go online, go out and fight, be lawless.

    I remember that when he drank too much, he pulled my shoulders and laughed to the sky: "I want to be the best guitar player in the world, but they all?I like it, they don't like the way I hold the guitar, they don't like me because the guitar doesn't want anything, they don't like it, they think that when I hold the guitar, I'm like a bastard, a bastard waiting to die!  Well, since you ruined my dreams and you broke my guitar, then I'll be what you least like!  "At that time, I looked at his ruddy eyes and laughed and said: "Tsk tsk, do you look a little bit like crying, crying like a sb!"  "

    "Little brat, you know your ass! Do you know what a dream is?" He sniffed hard and looked at me with a little sneer.

    My eyes were already dimmed from drinking, and I immediately shouted loudly: "Fart, who the fuck hasn't dreamed yet, let me tell you, Crazy Chen, I think, I want to be what I think a writer is!"  flushed.

    "Fuck! Look at those two sapphires in front of us, those two gangsters are still talking about their dreams here? I really don't know how cute they are!" A young man in his twenties in another seat squinted at us.

    Just as I was about to retort, Crazy Chen pressed it down, walked towards the young man's table, and asked with a smile: "Can you tell me again?"

    "What's the point of saying it again? Two Sabbies!" The young man stood up with a look of contempt on his face.

    "Hehe!" Crazy Chen just laughed when a beer bottle behind him smashed hard on the young man's head, and the bottle shattered, and the girls on the young man's table screamed in fright.  Holding half a bottle in my hand, I continued to ask the young man whose face was covered with blood, "Say it again, son!" (Remember the website website: www.hlnovel.com
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